


Temporarily Home

by Welfycat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: angst_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welfycat/pseuds/Welfycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam is twelve he gets to be normal, for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporarily Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Orphans & Runaways  
> Author Notes: References information learned in s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon

"Bones, fetch," Sam said, tossing the softball across the room where it thunked gracelessly into the hallway.

Bones scrambled across the floor, sliding across the tile and following the ball with bright enthusiasm. Sam smiled as he leaned back on the couch and waited for the dog, _his_ dog, to bring it back, pressing the heels of his bare feet into the edge of the couch cushion was starting to come out. The couch sagged deeply in the middle and on the occasions he fell asleep on the couch before he made it to bed he wound up with his arms and legs slipping back between the cushions. He didn't fall asleep on the couch very often though, only when he'd spent the day doing heavy lifting out in the street market or running through the streets delivering messages. Sam knew he had it good; the apartment building he was staying in was abandoned and condemned by the city, so no one came poking around. The room he'd found was filthy but in good enough condition that it was livable, and he'd stayed worse places before. He had agreements with a couple of the local vendors at the street markets that ran about half the days of the week; he was cheap labor and paid under the table. At twelve years old it was pretty much the only work he could get, though he was lucky it was summer and no one paid attention to a teenager running free in the streets.

"Bones?" Sam called, getting to his feet and finding his dog lying in the hallway and gnawing at the already tattered softball. "You were supposed to bring it back," he chided gently, rubbing his hands through the dog's uneven fur.

Sam called the dog 'Bones' because when he found him running loose he was so skinny that's all Sam could feel. He'd found a yard in the neighborhood with a garden hose still running and washed him off, using his pocket knife to cut the mats out of Bones' fur and got them both clean. Fortunately it was summer in Flagstaff and they had both dried off quickly. He had never had a pet before, but he'd read some books about dogs. There wasn't any money for dog food that they sold in pet stores, but Sam gave Bones half of whatever he was eating, except for soda and chocolate because he knew that was bad for dogs. When he worked in the market he was sometimes paid in food or goods instead of money, which was fine with him. Maybe it was taking advantage, a little bit, but it wasn't the same as stealing or hustling pool or any of the other ways Dad made ends meet, though the ends didn't always meet either.

This room had been his home for nearly ten days, and as much as he liked to sprawl out on the bed with Bones pressed against his side and pretend it was permanent, Sam knew better. Dean would eventually find him, probably after Dad got home, and they would pack up in the car and drive somewhere else so Dad could hunt. But he'd gotten used to motels and week by week apartments and no matter how much he wanted to stay somewhere, they wouldn't, so Sam just relished the time that he had to be himself. He didn't have to fight with Dad and Dean here, didn't have to practice cleaning and firing guns, didn't have to worry about salt lines even though he knew it was stupid not to have them. But, this was almost normal and the salt would have been a constant reminder that he wasn't normal.

Leaving Bones still happy with the ball, Sam got up and got ready for bed. One of the first things he'd purchased at the local second hand shop was a pair of pajamas. He'd been sleeping in his day clothes for almost three years now. Dean had explained that it was so they could get up and go at a moments notice if they had to, the same reason their bags always stayed packed and Dad slept with his shoes on. Dean had recently started sleeping with his shoes on too, on top of the covers and with a gun under his pillow. Sam, who had never really wanted to learn how to fire a gun and certainly didn't want to sleep with one, had objected. Dad had of course taken Dean's side and there had been a fight. There had been more fights lately, a lot more.

Sam washed up as best as he could without running water. He kept a few jugs that he filled from a tap on the outside of a building a block away, but it wasn't the same as being able to shower. He changed into his pajamas, a soft green top and a pair of loose black pants that had stars in lots of colors on them. After turning off the lantern that he had taken with him when he left, Sam climbed into bed and arranged the blankets around himself. He stretched his bare feet as he yawned and wondered if he had enough money to get pizza again tomorrow. Bones really liked pepperoni.

"Bones," Sam called and then whistled, smiling when the bed dipped beside him and the dog flopped down on top of the blankets and half of Sam. He laughed and pushed at the dog until they were comfortably side by side.

"Goodnight," he told the dog, leaning his head forward to rest it against the dog's fur before flopping back down. He couldn't stay like this forever, soon enough he would be dragged back into the world of demons and hunters, but for that moment he was okay. Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes and imagined Dean in a bed next to him, without shoes or a gun, and tucked under a pile of blankets. With that thought in his mind it didn't take him long to fall asleep.


End file.
